


Blood On My Hands

by NightingaleLost



Series: Forest Walks [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Death, Major Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-22
Updated: 2013-03-22
Packaged: 2017-12-06 03:49:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/731144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightingaleLost/pseuds/NightingaleLost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While on a walk alone, Persef has the unfortunate luck to come across a hunting purpleblood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blood On My Hands

If he was honest with himself, the only reason he was out here was to make Deacon happy.

The leaves crunched underfoot as he made his way determinedly to a fallen tree, leaning against it as he caught his breath. He had been doing this for a week now and it still wasn't any easier, nor did he go any farther than before. But he could see the way Deacon's eyes lit up when he told him he was going to out on a walk, to the garden, into the forest...willingly making the effort instead of waiting for the other to suggest it first. Persef knew why, of course, but he didn't see the point. He knew he was weak and didn't eat like he should and everything else that everybody saw when they looked at him, but he didn't know how taking walks outside was supposed to help any of that.

Still it made Deacon happy so here he was, sitting in the forest by a dead tree, waiting for his legs to regain some feeling. He hated to think he might be letting his matesprit down in some way by not trying hard enough, so he always pushed himself until he was about to collapse. By now, this area was familiar as the limit to his meager strength. Sighing, he leaned back, his hair falling across his face again. He was gonna sit here for a while, then go on to his next familiar marker, a disease-stricken tree by a small depression in the ground that might have once been a nesting area for a beast. Then he would turn around and go back home.

Persef yawned, fingers reaching down to touch some of the new grass around him. So maybe it was a useless endeavor. It was still nice to feel the plants around him. He hadn't realized how much he had missed it, after living so long in a barren hive. He had been cut off from something that had given him great joy when he was younger and it felt good to reconnect with it as he was doing lately. Maybe this was what Deacon was trying to accomplish instead. Persef smiled a little, leaning over to examine a white cluster of flowers peeping out from under the fallen trunk; he might come back here later with Deacon and transfer them into his garden where they had more room.

A sharp whistle sounded next to his head, followed almost instantly by a thunk and a shake through the trunk he leaned on. Persef scrambled to his feet before he knew what he was doing, shovel clenched in his hands from the depths of his sylladex. His wide eyes sought out whatever had lodged into the trunk but before he could focus on it it slithered from the wood, shooting back to where it had come from. 

There was silence.

Persef's gaze darted back and forth, breath quickening in his chest. He could barely see with his hair in disarray in front of him but he wasn't going to risk taking a hand off of his weapon to push it back. Someone was out there and they had just tried to kill him. If he hadn't moved to the side, they would have killed him. His foot inched back, only to run into the wood of the tree behind him. He had trapped himself. The close set trees loomed above him, and through his hair he saw a quick flick of light, like metal reflecting the moonlight. That was all the warning he got before something shot toward him again; his hands barely raising the shovel in time. There was the sound of metal clashing as it collided with the spadehead of the shovel; Persef was pushed back by the force, eyes closing for half a second. When he opened them again he saw a troll not thirty feet from him, spinning a long chain in one hand. From the whistling sound, he could tell there was a blade on the other end.

Shit. Shit this was bad. Persef knew he didn't stand half a chance against any troll right now, not the way he was. His legs still ached and his heart was thumping fast enough to make his chest hurt. Running was his only chance, but with that kind of long-range weapon...gritting his teeth, Persef ran forward, shovel held ready to his side. If he managed to get in close, maybe he could...

He knew he had taken the troll by surprise by the way the whirling chain slowed a bit and felt a glimmer of hope stir before the other let the chain loose toward him. With dead aim it slipped below his arms, looping up and over until both of them were bound tightly, shocks of pain running up to his shoulders and spine. Persef knew what was coming next and gritted his teeth, unable to stop the gasp as he was yanked off his feet, hitting the ground face first hard enough to bruise later, if he survived. He tried to roll over onto his back, hands pushing against the shovel he had managed to keep a hold of, if only barely. He heard footsteps come closer, leaves and twigs crunching and his legs scrabbled over the ground, finally flipping him over. His chest was tight with panic, heartbeat racing in his ears as he swung upwards blindly, hitting something.

A pained cry reached his ears, the tightness of the chain going slack; that was all he needed. Persef yanked his arms free, his hands letting go of the shovel to claw at the ground in an attempt to stand. A curse reached his ears and he saw his attacker clearly, clutching at his left eye as indigo blood seeped from his temple between his fingers, thick horns curling up over his head in a moon shape. Persef didn't need to see any more, he turned and ran in the direction he hoped his hive was in, mind so twisted up he could barely see.

There was a short hiss and a terrible pain lanced though the side of his leg, ripping a scream from his throat, but he couldn't stop or he'd die.

His body burned with fatigue and pain with each step, but he was beyond listening to his body, his mind consumed only with getting as far away as quick as he possibly could. _Don't stop, don't look back, don't stop, don't..._

He stumbled over a root after a while, going down again; he wasn't sure how he managed to stand up again but he was running once more somehow until he burst from the trees onto the lawnring of his hive, the sight cutting through his panic almost made him sob in relief. Persef called out Deacon's name, or tried, the name stuck in his throat and came out only as a choked whine. He limped to the door, clawing at it with the last of his strength.

It opened quickly and he was saved from a nasty meet with the floor by a pair of arms, scooping him up into a warm embrace. Persef heard Deacon's voice in his ears, angry and worried and demanding all at once and all the fight went out of him, rushing out in great racking sobs. His claws latched onto the front of Deacon's shirt, clinging tightly enough to poke through to the skin but the other didn't let go, running a hand through his hair and demanding what had happened, who had hurt him. Persef wasn't coherent enough for sentences, spitting out chopped words about 'attack', 'indigo' and 'blood'. The purpleblood's words became a soothing murmur, repeating himself over and over until Persef could breathe again, his cheeks wet with colored tears. He was brought to sit on something, the couch, he realized after a second, and Deacon disentangled himself from Persef's shaky grip, hands cupping his face until he was looking at him. He was saying something that he couldn't hear, and suddenly he was being kissed, the familiar action stifling his panic down to a manageable level, until he could hear the words when the other pulled back,

“Stay here. Stay _here_. Don't open the door. I'll be right back.”

Persef shook his head fearfully, reaching out for his matesprit but Deacon gently batted his hands away. “I'll be _right back_ , Persef.” He kissed his forehead. “Trust me.” He felt a touch on his leg; Deacon was pressing a cloth against the wound there, a slice across the side of his calf oozing blood. “Hold this here.” Persef gingerly held it down, hissing as pain raced up his leg.

“Stay here.” And then he was gone, the door closing without a sound. Persef stared after him, more tears welling up as he began to cry again.

****

The trail of bright teal blood was easy to follow on the green and brown blur of a ground, standing out clearly against everything else. It was hard to pretend it was the blood of an injured beast or a lost lusus, instead of his matesprit's, but he made the effort. This was one fight he didn't want to rush. No, he wanted to take his sweet time with this one. He quickly backtracked the blood trail, fists clenching in eager anticipation, regardless of his determination to keep calm.

He came across where the blood ended, or had begun more like, peering around the area. The scuffed up ground led him on a bit farther, where he encountered the sad remains of Persef's shovel. The wooden pole had been snapped in half, probably out of anger. Deacon grinned slowly, seeing the spots of indigo on the ground. He was close, but where...?

A sharp noise caught his attention and he jumped back, right as a blade embedded itself in the ground he had been. He stood up straight, staring at the direction the blade had come from as it was pulled back. This had to be the troll that had attacked Persef, probably one of those that had to hunt for its lusus. He could see a splotch of blood over its eye, and he felt a flicker of pride at Persef for managing to get that hit in. Then he remembered how he had come home, senseless with fear, a splotchy dark grey bruise spreading over one cheek and twigs in his hair as he cried, and his anger rose tenfold, causing his grin to twist maliciously.

He didn't get much of a chance to say anything as the troll suddenly made a move, flicking the bladed chain in his direction with surprising speed. Deacon took one step back, then another and another, until it seemed he was in full retreat, barely managing to dodge the sharp hooked knife. The indigoblood bared his teeth at him, delighted that he was on the clear winning end of this fight, even against a purpleblood. It wasn't until Deacon returned his grin that the other felt as if something was wrong but by then it was too late. Metal gloved hands suddenly latched onto the blade as it shot by again, and this time it was the indigo that was flying forward, only to meet his jaw with the heavy rounded knuckles of Deacon's gauntlet. A sharp crack sounded as the bone fractured, and he dropped to the ground, wheezing in shock.

Deacon wiggled his fingers like a pianist, leaning down to grab him by one thick horn and dragging him over to a nearby tree. “You're a fuckin' idiot.” Curling his hands around both brightly colored horns, he lifted the indigo up and slammed his face into the bark, holding him firmly as the other struggled at first. The dark splotch on the tree grew larger and larger as the other troll became dead weight, and Deacon heaved up and over, keeping a good grip as he slapped him onto the ground like a toy. There was a series of muted snaps. Probably some ribs broken. He let go and stepped around him, watching what he would do next.

The indigo's face was an unrecognizable mess, bubbling color and shards of cartilage as he struggled to breathe, the noise liquid and ugly. He wasn't sure if he still had eyes, and he could see spreading flowers on his shirt where some ribs had broken skin. Still conscious though, which was good. No fun in killing off a troll that was passed out. Deacon gave him a kick to the leg. “Come on don't die so quickly, you asshole. I'm not done here.”

There was whimper and the indigo's arms twitched, trying to drag himself away. Deacon laughed in surprise, coming around and snapping the left arm with a harsh stomp. Retching sounds accompanied his similar treatment of the other arm. He circled around once more, but the troll seemed done for, a bleeding fleshy mess of bone and meat. Eh, he should probably be getting back to Persef by now anyway. He put his boot on the other's remnant of a face for a moment, savoring the image, before quickly bringing his foot down with heavy force. The already weakened bone split apart with a crunchy squelch, and Deacon made a face, shaking his boot free of blood and gore. Luckily they were washed easily. Peering around he caught the glint of metal on the ground and his face brightened as he picked up the chain and knife weapon. He definitely liked the look of this. Of course, he was going to have to get Persef's blood off of it first, no way that could still be on there. Coiling it up on his hands he put away his gauntlets and made his way back to the hive where his matesprit was waiting for him.

****

Persef jumped when he heard someone at the door, relaxing when Deacon's voice came from the other side, warning him not to get spooked. The purpleblood came in, closing the door and dropping something silvery and familiar on a nearby surface before he came to the couch where Persef sat. He had removed his sweater and rolled up his pants to get better access to his wounds, which he had been tending to with the first aid kid he kept nearby. Deacon's expression darkened as he took in the bandages over his leg and the chain-shaped bruises over both of his arms; he hadn't seen his arms before he'd left.

Persef decided not to give him much time to think about it and gestured for him to sit down already. The other did so calmly enough, taking from his hands the ointment he had been spreading over his bruises. “You okay now?”

“Yeah...how about you? Are you alright?” Persef couldn't bear the thought of Deacon being injured for his sake against some strange indigoblood, although it felt like he was belittling Deacon's abilities by asking. The other looked a bit affronted. “Come on Persef, you think I couldn't take care of one guy?” He brought one injured arm forward, kissing it softly. “I'm the best there is.”

Persef smiled, and Deacon leaned toward him a bit to kiss the bruise on his cheek as well. “I know you are.”

He smoothed fingers through Persef's hair, plucking out bits of leaves and debris, before gently pulling him closer to his side. 

“Good.”


End file.
